Measure A Year
by StillGotTonight
Summary: What do you do when you only have a year to live? Make those moments count. Fall in love. Fight for your life. Live happily ever after?
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Greetings readers! I'm no writer, I don't really have much talent. I just get an idea in my head and need to get it out. So thank you for clicking on this story. I will try my very best to do this justice. Reviews and comments will keep me going though! :) And I'll try not be super annoying and leaving very large author notes.**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing. Like literally nothing. If Glee were mine- things would be different.**

**Read, enjoy, review!**

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31,557,600 seconds.

525,600 minutes.

8,766 hours.

365 days.

52 weeks.

12 months.

One year.

What do you do when you only have a year to live?

You make those moments count.

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If there was one thing Blaine Anderson hated more than French class, it was actually doing work for French class. He wished he could blow off this term project, but after all Dalton Academy did have its requirements. And he wasn't about to be kicked out of the school. Not after everything he had done to get there in the first place.

Thusly this entailed doing actual work for the classes. Blaine did not particularly pride himself as being one of the smarter juniors. He was lead vocalist of the Warblers, he was only seventeen years old. Was he really expected to pass French while rehearsing a new Katy Perry number each night?

What was there left for Blaine to do except complete his essay on French history. Wes had point blank refused to help him, though looking back on it, Blaine had to admit that he more or less demanded Wes do the essay for him. _And not just any essay on French history_, Blaine thought ruefully. The detail and explorations required for this particular assignment had taken him all the way from Westerville to Lima. The Lima Public Library to be precise.

You knew something was not right when you had to travel this far for a school project. Blaine didn't even know why he was even here. He could have just gone to Dalton's library, consequently acquiring the incorrect research. _Might as well do this essay thing right then. _Resisting the urge to get _Madeline_ off the shelf, Blaine loaded himself down with every French book he could find, somehow he doubted that "A little house covered in vines" and "Twelve little girls" was considered highly regarded French literature.

Taking every thick and old book that he could carry, Blaine proceeded to plop himself down at one of the tables. Evidently every other student in the state of Ohio was given the same enormous amount of school work, because it seemed that everyone was here at the library.

Sitting down he noticed that there was another boy seated across from him, his face hidden by a rather large anatomy book. And upon hearing Blaine's ruckus, Stranger Table Buddy lowered his book a bit, enough to reveal his face.

And Blaine felt his heart skip a beat.

For right in front of him sat the most beautiful boy he had ever laid eyes upon. Pale creamy skin, soft chestnut hair, and brilliantly glowing eyes. the sappy romantic, and very gay, part of Blaine thought that this boy surely had to be an angel. He had never seen anything so perfect before.

So caught up in his thoughts Blaine hardly even noticed that Table Buddy's lips were moving. He blinked and saw the other boy looking at him expectantly. Blaine opened his mouth to say something, but nothing more than an unintelligible grunt of incomprehension came out.

Beautiful Table Buddy laughed.

It was so melodic to Blaine's ears.

"I said 'hi'" Table Buddy said, and Blaine fell in love with his exquisitely high pitched voice. And yet he still could not formulate a response.

"What's the matter?" Table Buddy asked his face transforming into one of playful concern, "Has Ursula got your voice?"

At that comment Blaine smiled and finally found his voice.

"My name's Blaine."

"Kurt."


	2. Chapter 2

Congestive heart failure: a condition in which the heart's function as a pump is inadequate to meet the body's needs.

The symptoms of congestive heart failure vary, but can include fatigue, diminished exercise capacity, shortness of breath, and swelling.

The treatment of congestive heart failure can include lifestyle modifications, addressing potentially reversible factors, medications, heart transplant, and mechanical therapies.

The course of congestive heart failure in any given patient is extremely variable.

Until recently, the selection of medications available for the treatment of congestive heart failure was frustratingly limited and focused mainly on controlling the symptoms. Medications have now been developed that both improve symptoms, and, importantly, prolong survival.

Prolong survival.

Survival.

Burt threw down the pamphlet with such a force that the glossy papers flew in all different directions. Ignoring the look of sympathetic distain from the nurse, Burt crossed his arms and sulked back into the hard white plastic chair in the hospital waiting room.

The cardio section.

Mr. Hummel had been in this place so many times in the past. After all, it was here in this very room he had learned of the loss of his dear Elizabeth. And now the impending death of his son. He didn't need that stupid informative pamphlet the doctor had given him to read while he took Kurt back into the examining room.

Elizabeth had died from CHF. Oh yes, Burt knew all about this disease. The one thing Burt did not know was that this deadly disease could have been passed down to his son. It was not necessarily a hereditary condition. But with his family history of heart problems, the doctor said it really was no surprise that Kurt had contracted the dysfunction.

Really no surprise.

Well, Burt had sure as hell been surprised. Who expects their child to suddenly be diagnosed with a fatal heart condition?

The fatigue?

Kurt had told Burt it must be the extra work done in Glee club lately.

The shortness of breath?

Burt passed that off as just Kurt's childhood asthma acting up again.

The lack of appetite?

Kurt had always been a picky eater.

Burt sighed again, took of his cap and rubbed his bald head. The doctor said there was nothing anyone could have done to prevent this. There was no way Burt should have thought those symptoms were something worse.

That was just what they said to make you feel better. Deep down Burt knew he should have seen the connections from what Kurt was going through to what Elizabeth had suffered from.

He couldn't help but think that if he had brought Kurt in for a check-up sooner, then maybe they would have caught the disease earlier. Then maybe his boy would have much, much longer than one year.

Burt knew that this kind of thinking would do no one any good. It certainly would not help Kurt. From now on, all things would be for Kurt.

Burt would rather die than see his darling son be taken so young from this killer. He still couldn't seem to accept that Kurt would be dying before him.

He wouldn't even allow those thoughts to enter his mind.

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**A/N: Like it? Hate it? R&R please! :)**


	3. Chapter 3

Kurt sat on the cold examining table, hearing nothing the doctor was saying. He completely zoned out once the words "Congestive heart failure" and "One year" had left the physician's mouth.

Kurt wasn't stupid. He may be in the care of a pediatrician, but he was no child. He knew what killed his mother. And he knew that it was now killing him.

He was sixteen years old, almost seventeen, and he was dying.

He sat there, numb. Kurt was still in a state of shock at being told his life was almost over, he couldn't even formulate a reaction. He just sat there, hearing nothing but his own thoughts. Seeing nothing but fog. Feeling nothing but his own racing heart beat, as if it were trying to get in a lifetime of pulsations before it suddenly went still.

The doctor was now going on about transplants. If Kurt knew any better, he would feel optimistic at the possible chance for a cure. However, considering his mother had died waiting for a new heart, the knowledge that his doctor was putting him on the transplant list did nothing for him.

Kurt couldn't decide if he was depressed or accepting at his prognosis. All he felt was numbness. He could still remember that day in Glee club, that moment was the inciting incident in his life now.

After the club had listened to yet another solo courtesy of one Rachel Berry, Mr. Shuester had declared it time for Sectionals practice. The rigorous dance moves it seemed, had been too much for Kurt, with his at the time unknown heart condition, and had caused him to pass out cold.

His father had picked him up after that. And three days later here they were, receiving the news that Kurt had only a year to live.

It seemed now, that once he became short on it, time did nothing to slow down. It was as if each heart beat was a countdown to when he would finally die.

And yet somehow, Kurt couldn't bring himself to feel sorry for his predicament. He wanted nothing more than to yell and scream and hoard himself away in his room- content on staying there until he finally died.

But no. He was a fighter. Nobody pushes the Hummels around, his father had said. Kurt knew there was no way humanly possible that he could overcome his CHF. But he sure as hell wouldn't let this thing defeat his spirit.

He didn't know how or when, but next thing he knew, Kurt was in the car, seated next to his dad on the way home. Kurt knew what going home meant. Telling Carole and Finn the news. He loved his stepmother, but she was a nurse so she was surely educated enough to know what having CHF meant. Her son on the other hand, was not so bright. His stepbrother would probably think it was some sort of certificate for Call of Duty or something.

Upon arriving at his home, Kurt decided that he really didn't have the strength to sit through his father explaining everything to Carole and Finn, he got so tired lately. So he went up to his room as quickly as he could, slamming the door behind him.

Finally allowing the tears to fall.

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It had been one week since Kurt had learned he had heart failure and only had a year to live. One week less than that now.

Kurt had come to accept that he would not be on this earth much longer. His father though, still seemed to be in a state of denial. Kurt didn't want to spend the little time he had left feeling sorry for himself. Much to Finn's chagrin, who Kurt had seemingly underestimated in his understanding of such a state of circumstances, Kurt had opted to keep his disease a secret from the rest of the New Directions. He hadn't even told his best friend Rachel. His reasoning was that they would treat him differently, and perhaps forbid him from competing at Sectionals. Little did Kurt know, his father had informed Mr. Shue, so as to have the teacher keep an extra eye on him.

Kurt was now at the library. He didn't want his father finding out he was researching his heart condition. Kurt didn't know exactly what he was looking for, but he felt better doing something rather than nothing. Maybe he could find something to help with the symptoms?

After about an hour of going cross eyed trying to understand the complicated medical terminology of the very large anatomy book, he was interrupted by the sound of someone joining his table.

Someone with dark curls and golden eyes.

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**A/N: Reviews are happiness!**


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